Bear Their Secret: Wylde Den Three (Alaskan Den Men Book 12)

by Talina Perkins

  She braced her forearm against the wall. Handing over the reins for a few hours for some sexy times was one thing, but to trust them with her heart? Her future?

  Not that easy. Besides, neither ever took the fun times further. They searched her out after work and they left before the sun had a chance to heat the summer air. Apparently, her feelings were one-sided.

  One week and the heat of Houston would be the only thing caressing her body. Reality pressed into the cracks of her resolve and weakened the foundation she worked hard to build up over the last month. She just needed to work out how to keep it from crumbling the second Lorne’s fingers intertwined with hers or Kohl teased her with soft kisses.

  She touched her neck where sensations whispered across her senses.

  “Staying isn’t such a good idea. My teaching term is up. They’ve already hired another linguistics teacher to replace me so can’t change that. It has to happen. And, I can’t stay here forever.” She shrugged. “Texas is home. I’ll be home in a few more days once I submit my final reports and scores for the students’ final exams.”

  “Who are you trying to convince?”

  Cherry’s blood pressure rose a notch as she buried her forehead in her hands. Her sister was right. Who was she trying to convince?

  “Where is she?”

  Cherry sprang up and nearly lost her grip on her cell phone.

  A hot twinge, like a red-hot poker straight out of the fire pit stabbed at her heart. A pronounced silence settled over the bar as the booming voice blasted through the entire diner. Anger reverberated in her bones, barreling over her sister’s voice.

  She slowly turned on her heel, edged out of the storage, and peeked around the stacks of Styrofoam containers stacked in three neat rows behind the wall separating the kitchen from the front of the main dining area.

  “Uhh... hey, sis gotta go. I’ll call you with flight numbers and all that jazz tomorrow.”

  Kohl’s father. This outta be good. Cherry flicked the end button, stuffed the phone in her back pocket and stopped in front of the bar where another waitress paused, mouth gaped open.

  “You.”

  Cherry took half a step backward as the old man’s scathing tone lashed out at her.

  The Elder of Kohl’s den, wider than the door he’d just barreled through and a good head and a half taller than her five-five height, pushed through the chairs and table, empty or not.

  Eyes, wild and furious, landed on hers as the double doors to the diner swung shut behind the man that carried the same face as her lover, only a few years older. Handsome, with a streak of silver through his sideburns and a thick beard trimmed close to the chin.

  The man never held a kind word for her, but today he seemed riled up more than usual. As soon as he’d learned about her, Lorne and Kohl, he’d been angry and the crinkled skin at the corners of his eyes only grew deeper. If wrath had a color she would say it matched the same amber kicking up a nasty storm in his irises, slowly being pushed out by the blackness of his dilated pupils. His mouth pulled back in a fierce grimace making him appear ten years older.

  Cherry’s back went straight and her eyebrows inched up at the wall of muscle plowing toward her.

  He tossed people to the side as though they meant nothing. Probably didn’t. Not to him.

  Show no fear. Didn’t animals sense fear and half shifter, half human equaled animal senses? Fear would get her killed. She swore under her breath. This was going to hurt like a mother.

  From halfway across the room, she noted the way he curled his fingers into an iron fist.

  She couldn't back down.

  Damn it. She didn’t have time for his condescending, judgmental crap today.

  “What’s on your mind, Mr. Blackthorne?” Her voice wobbled but grit glued her backbone together. She never let his gaze wander as he drew closer. With his teeth bared in a snarl, he growled down at her, a cold glint in his eye. “If it weren’t for your hussy ass, my boy wouldn’t be in this mess. Putting himself in danger just to impress you.”

  Hussy? Did he even know what the word meant? What the hell was he talking about? Her hands dropped from untying the slipknot holding her half apron in place.

  Puzzled, she glared back the huffing alpha, her own anger mounting.

  “Like you don’t know,” he scoffed, hands raised above her head and looking at her like she should be able to read his mind.

  Rone walked out of his back office and stepped up to her side before she could press for more information. Or before the Elder could deliver on the murderous glare he nailed her with.

  “We got a problem?” Rone asked with brittle patience. She caught his underlying threat laced with a dangerous undercurrent. As a former cop who’d spent the better part of his career busting up drug rings from the inside, a pissed off Elder in his bar was an easy day.

  “Apparently, I’m the cause of Kohl nearly getting hurt?” Her gaze danced between two sets of shifter eyes, both an ethereal whiskey color, one frigid despite the earthly coloring.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Rone asked, as baffled as she was by the accusation.

  “My boy is working a job he was supposed to leave a month ago.”

  “Leave? He’s worked as a search and rescue climber for almost six years.” More than that, Lorne and Kohl were childhood friends from opposing dens. The truce between the Wyldes and the Blackthornes as old as the dens themselves from what she understood.

  “He’s supposed to be home, with me and taking care of his den and people. And he would be if you hadn’t showed up.” His hands worked overtime, clenching into fists at his sides as his words became more of a deathly low growl. He took a step back as if to walk away but turned abruptly and nearly toppled her as anger slurred his next words, “Always count on a piece of pussy to fuck everything up.”

  His arrogant superiority drove her heart to the floor. Each second that ticked by the shock wore off and her blood pressure spiked until all she could see was red. Teeth clenched, she battled the tears that burned the rims of her eyes. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, but her fingers itched to ball up and give him a good reason to hate her.

  Off to the side several waitresses gasped at his vehement words and turned a worrisome shade of gray that matched their uniforms as they looked on, trays held tight to their chests. As if a flimsy piece of wood could protect them against an angry shifter. The closer Mr. Blackthorne came, the farther they retreated until several booths separated them.

  At least they had the common sense not to go toe-to-toe with a pissed-off alpha werebear. But Cherry didn’t have a choice—he’d called her out. Growing up in an orphanage taught her a thing or two. Fighting back was at the top of that short list.

  For once Cherry was relieved Lorne and Kohl were not here to witness the Blackthorne Elder’s outburst. Kohl would be devastated and then he would be forced to protect her. She didn’t want to be the cause of more friction between the two.

  Cherry took a half a step forward before he could gain the entire floor for himself. Every bit she took removed a bit of control from the other guy, and she refused to give up one inch of ground to the pushy man.

  “If Kohl dies today it will be your fault.”

  The blood left Cherry’s face and her mouth fell slack as she stared into the dead eyes of a man that lost all connection with emotion except for an unhealthy dose of spite and hate.

  “Enough,” Rone cut in. “Out Blackthorne!”

  “My business isn’t with you, boy. Now step aside.” Elder Blackthorne flicked a fat thumb at Rone, which only pissed him off more, judging by the way his eyes narrowed and he clenched his fingers into fists. By now everyone was looking at them. Even the rowdy crowd behind her piped down as they looked on.

  “You’re in my bar, talking to my friends and family. I say it’s my problem. Like it or not.”

  Family? Did he mean her?

  “Her? Family? What the fuck has my boy done? You pregna
nt?” His tone lacked even the slightest of emotion one would expect from a loving parent. Blazing eyes turned on her, his condescending finger hovering in front of her nose.

  “You don’t have to worry. That option isn’t even close to being on the table. So sorry Blackthorne, won’t get any little were babies from me in this lifetime.” Blackthorne shot her with a look as if every word she said was a lie.

  Too bad! She only offered a tight-lipped smile in return. She had a hard enough time telling Lorne and Kohl about her injury and the past that led up to her being sterile. She didn’t need the whole town knowing all the sordid details too.

  From the cold anger splashing across Rone’s expression, the shit was about to get real. Too bad for the Elder to pick the one brother that valued loyalty over all else.

  Yep, very real. She sidled to the left a fraction just in case fists joined the conversation. Which ultimately ended with blood and busted bones in the shifter world, she’d quickly learned.

  Her sister would make a fortune up here patching shifters.

  Blackthorne brushed Rone’s warning aside as if a pesky fly buzzed in his ear. That didn’t bode well for the older man. “Because of you, I’ll be lucky if he comes home at all. When are you gonna listen? You’re bad for him. Bad. I’ve said it from the beginning.” He pressed on, turning his wrath away from her and pinning Rone with a steely-eyed glare.

  His words cut deep, but she had learned the hard way that verbal wounds healed. If something happened to Kohl? Nothing would ever be okay again. She raised her gaze, locked eyes with a man she should fear and demanded an answer.

  “Tell me where Kohl and Lorne are right now and don’t you dare give me some pompous, high-handed bullshit, old man. I want answers.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Blackthorne swiveled her way, a beefy hand poised to give her a taste of his knuckles.

  She narrowed her eyes on Blackthorne. Okay, so this was happening. As experience went, she could take a punch or a few knife wounds, but this would be a new experience. God, don’t let Kohl walk in now. He’d end up killing his own father.

  She braced for impact and dared him with a glare to go through with it. It would hurt, but like hell would she back down. Not anymore. Not ever. She refused to go back to being the scared little mouse afraid of everyone and everything.

  Fear locked her knees but he didn’t have to know that. Instead, she leveled her chin and prepared for the worst for standing up to someone three times her size.

  She blinked as chairs flew. Rone had his fists buried in the other man’s plaid button-down before the other man’s hand could come anywhere near his target. The guttural roar Rone let loose rattled bottles and carried an ungodly threat as if hell was fast on his heels. “Touch her and I’ll do Kohl the favor of killing you where you stand. Back the fuck off, Blackthorne. Remember whose territory you’re in. My roof, my protection. Touch her and the treaty between our dens won’t mean shit. And after I get through with you, you’ll have my brother to deal with and your son. They’ll go ballistic on your ass. And let’s not forget this woman is also your son’s mate.” Acid dripped from Rone’s words as he pinned the Elder to the bar, nose to nose.

  Mate? She stared, unmoving.

  No. No. NO!

  “Don’t push your fucking luck,” Rone continued. The quieter the voice, the deadlier the man. She’d learned that the hard way. Rone barely lifted his voice a single decibel.

  Cherry looked between the two of them. He was throwing out a lot of assumptions about her relationship with Kohl that only riled the older man more. Damn him. Now Blackthorne would take his hatred out on Kohl while she was back in Houston some two thousand miles away.

  Cherry took a deep breath and let it out on a count of five. This posturing crap took the last drop of patience on tap. She reached out and placed a hand on Rone’s arm as she shouldered her way in. Both straightened.

  Cherry had learned early on that if you wanted to be heard in a group of shifters, asking nicely never worked. Breaking up bar fights and taught her that much.

  “Treaties don’t mean shit to me, boy,” Blackthorne retorted with the same vicious intent. Chest to chest, the older shifter didn’t waste any time slashing out at her again. “And did you call this girl family? Like hell, she’ll be one of mine! Unless you’re not telling me something. You in on the games too?”

  She looked between them. What? Cherry felt her jaw drop a couple of inches.

  “You tasting the little Southern belle too?” Pure disgust spilled out of the older Blackthorne’s mouth, his nose damn near touching Rone’s. Neither backing off.

  Was he for real? Is that what he really thought of her? So much hatred because he couldn’t understand what she shared with his son and Lorne?

  Enough. They wanted to shout? Fine. She knew how to throw down as much as the next guy, or gal for that matter.

  She didn’t hesitate. “I said,” she raised her voice above everyone, which wasn’t hard since the whole place had their attention locked on her, mouths sealed. “What. The hell. Happened?” She pulled the trigger and shot out each word on a crack of anger and enough frustration to kill a bear. Or two. Both men backed off and turned to her.

  “Turn on the TV, girly, see for yourself. It’s all over the afternoon news.”

  Cherry shoved the wooden bar stools to the side and bolted over the bar. Channel five blared to life before he finished his sentence.

  “We’re coming to you from Base Two north of Starr Point where the two lost teenagers were found earlier today by the daring rescue team.” The reporter’s raised voice filled the silence and had the patrons migrating closer.

  Claw Ridge had only one search and rescue team. Kohl and Lorne now that Rone had retired from his short stint with them after leaving the police force. Cherry clung to every syllable the reporter uttered from five hundred feet above Base One. Only pro climbers went past Base One and Starr Point. What the hell were those kids thinking especially this late in the season?

  The cameraman panned to the side and zeroed in on the mountain face to catch rocks tumble from the steep side. The ground shifted beneath one climber’s boots as he scooted across a hair-thin ledge to reach Kohl who hung suspended from a thick rope connected to the chopper. Adam fought against sharp winds to hold the bird steady for the most part.

  The cameraman zoomed in on the Wylde Excursions emblem across the side of Fat Old Betty and then panned to the man dangling twenty feet below the chopper, and that was when she forgot to breathe.

  Seeing it, she couldn’t peel her eyes away. Lorne, covered in a deep blue jumpsuit to prevent abrasions from debris or scared climbers, also hung from a rope several feet above Kohl.

  Her heart no longer resided in her chest. It hit the floor, where it stayed, and she didn’t know if the ice in her veins was something to worry about at the moment. Both Lorne and Kohl were good at their jobs. Breathe.

  Rone walked up behind her and flicked on the radio he had rigged to pick up the COMS system that fed a direct line to his brothers and Kohl, who worked the summit with them.

  Lorne, in his familiar calm yet commanding voice, coaxed a young woman to stay calm. “Look at me, sweetheart. No, not down. At me. There’s nothing down there. It’s all up here. That’s right. What’s your name?” Cherry could hear the smile in his voice over the COMS. Lorne held the girl tight around the midsection while he, from what she could see, checked their harness every few seconds. Rope fed into the pulley lugging them toward the safety of the chopper and Cherry counted each second that ticked by. Death Gulch was a steep drop of over four hundred feet to a ragged bed of rock. One slip or frayed rope and no one would survive. The depth of the cannon also meant rappelling down wasn’t an option.

  The cameraman zoomed out, highlighting how far off the ground they hovered.

  Fact: Werebears couldn’t fly.

  “What’s wrong? Why isn’t Kohl moving, too?” She turned to Rone first and then Blackthorne, who only returned
a deathly cold stare that matched the ice in her veins. Her insides chilled, and she worked the hem of her apron between her fingers as her phone went off in her back pocket. She ignored it. Whoever it was could call back.

  “Give them a minute, Cher.” Rone’s nickname for her did nothing to calm her.

  As if hearing her question, Lorne’s voice came through the radio again. Thankfully, her phone fell silent. She turned back to the TV. “We’re almost there and then you’ll be safe. No, no, sweetheart. Look at me.” Lorne blocked the girl from looking down. He placed a gloved hand under the girl’s chin and angled her gaze back on him. She knew the effect that simple, dominate gesture did to a female. If he wasn’t careful he’d have a fawning college kid falling for him in a whole other way than he intended.

  Cherry swallowed. His calm manner traveled over the soundwaves and reached into her until she was able to take a steady breath, too. The climber clung to him like a python, her legs and arms linked as another member of their team helped them into the chopper.

  He was safe.

  Then the angle changed and the cameraman showed the public what Lorne prevented the girls from seeing.

  Her boyfriend perched on an incredibly small ledge as the other half of Cherry’s heart was being whipped into the side of the mountain like a rag toy trying to get to him.

  “What the hell?” She leaned forward, her eyes wide. “How the hell?” It took her a second to mentally digest what she saw.

  “Sharp winds cut through the canyon from here,” Rone pointed to the side of the screen, “above Starr point and sends them down the gulch like a bat outta hell this time of year.” He outlined the path that led straight for Kohl and Lorne.

  Rone continued his explanation of what they all saw. “Some gusts can reach up to seventy, maybe a hundred miles an hour. Enough to knock someone on a rope quite a bit. It rocked Kohl so far off course, the rope securing him to the chopper wedged between two rocks and somehow a third knocked loose to fall on top, pinning the rope in place.”